I am good. I dancing. Drinking but dancing fine.
I'm drinking in the hospital parking lot.
For some reason, Oliver from Hannah Montana reminds me of pudding.
That's cute.
The only reason I kept his number in my phone for so long is so that hed pay for my abortion.
It's happening again. I feel like I'm under water and my heart beat matches "Teenage Wasteland"
today's workout consisted of me putting my fake in my sports bra and running to the liquor store.
In a min. With a stripper at the hospital. Business. Not pleasure.
Sometimes I wonder if my parents know that I mean horny when I say lonely.
That's the only definition of lonely that I know.
Also, yes, I look pretty rough. But my ovaries fought back this morning so getting dressed decently was not a priority.
Someone just knocked jenga into a plate of cake. I'm licking off each piece one by one.
I got so drunk last night that I drunk texted myself. "hand jobs are the currency of the future"
i have nothing going on in my life. unless a toxic love triangle with netflix and jack daniels counts.
She has no problem going ass to mouth, but won't eat the pizza crust. I don't get it.
It was great. We stayed up all night talking about objects he'd put in his theoretical vagina.
Dick is dick
Look decision making is not my specialty
Which is why I just spent $33 on a breakfast sandwich coffee and hash browns
Randomize
